3 Spring, Year 4
Meet the Parents
At 9 in the morning, I'm at the bus stop. The old bus, which I've been told used to drive to a nearby piece of desert, looks as miserable as ever in the early morning light.
Harvey is nowhere to be found.
We've finally decided to go visit my parents in the first week of spring, when the worst of the cold and damp – and disease – of winter is over. Maru is going to be at the clinic every day until Saturday when we get back, just in case. On my side, I've asked Marnie to look after my animals.
I gave Harvey a bag of ground homegrown coffee for a birthday gift. It's good coffee, but not the most fancy gift. This was intentional. Also, I made it up to him on the same day. Still, I have something else up my sleeve.
I see him come around the bend right as the bus also appears in view. I signal Harvey to hurry up and go stand at the edge of the asphalt to halt the bus. You have to really put yourself out there, past the old desert bus or the driver just kind of pretends he didn't see you. While I buy tickets, ask the driver to open the trunk and throw my suitcase in there, Harvey is puffing up the path, pulling his suitcase behind him, its wheels resisting the sand path.
"Just a second please," I tell the driver, who puffs out his breath in annoyance, and run over to Harvey.
"Go, I've got the case. Go, go, get in there or he'll leave us here," I insist, lifting the suitcase off the path. I start running. "Come on, I'll race ya. To the door."
We run back to the bus and Harvey stands in the door so the driver can't close it. Finally we find a couple of seats and plop ourselves down, huffing and panting.
"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware it would take longer with the suitcase..." Harvey starts.
"Ah, you'll know for next time. The worst thing that could happen is we go to my place and kill an hour until the next one passes. What have you got in there, anyway? That thing is big."
"Er... clothes for cold and warm weather, a rain jacket, a towel, a few extra things in case anything gets dirty..."
"We can just wash clothes, you know," I chuckle. "And we have towels. And you're wearing a jacket." And a hat. And a big wooly scarf. He shrugs uncomfortably.
"I wouldn't want to presume."
"Okay. I can get that. I'm sure that next time you'll bring like half of what you're bringing now." I lean in to kiss him.
"I'm just trying to make a good impression."
"You will. I told you, my parents will love you. Just... don't pay attention to my brother. He's probably going to be a jerk, but that's just posturing."
"What was his name again?"
"Daniel."
"And you had a sister, right?"
"Sandra. She's nice."
"Okay."
The bus ride takes half an hour and I spend most of it recounting anecdotes from my childhood with my siblings. When we arrive at the bus station, my parents are waiting for us. I get Harvey's suitcase out of the bus first, its wheels still full of sand, and then my own before we go and meet them. I hug them both.
"Hi mom. Hi dad. Good to see you."
"Aww, we missed you," my mom answers. I let go and take a step back. Harvey is standing by a bit awkwardly.
"Well, this is Harvey. Harvey, my parents."
"It's an honor to meet you," Harvey tells them, shaking my father's hand.
"I'm sure the 'honor' is all ours," dad responds, obviously trying to break some ice.
"It's nice to meet you, Harvey. Now let's get home and drop off this luggage, shall we?" My mother adds jovially. My dad grabs for my suitcase and I quickly pull it out of his reach.
"Not sixteen anymore," I say in a sing-song kind of voice.
"You wanna break your back, suit yourself," he answers, and heads off. We follow him to the parking lot for regular cars, load the suitcases in the trunk, and go on our way.
"So, Harvey," dad says from his place behind the wheel. We're both in the back. "Evan has been very secretive about you."
"I'm not secretive, there's just not much to tell," I protest. "I told them about the balloon," I add toward Harvey.
"So romantic," my mother opines.
"Now tell me honestly, Harvey, he was terrified, right? He's all like 'no, it's fine', but I'm sure he just doesn't want us to know," dad says.
Harvey looks at me, worried, and covertly signals at himself. I shake my head. I told them about the balloon – not what happened in it.
"No, Evan was... very comfortable in the balloon," Harvey answers, still looking a bit like a deer in headlights. "More so than me."
"You're the type that prefers firm ground, are you?" mom tries. "I know I would be."
"Yes," Harvey mutters forlornly. I take his hand.
"You know, dad, the first conversation we had ended up being about pickles," I offer.
"Really? Does he hate them that much?"
"I quite like pickles, actually," Harvey answers. "They're very healthy."
The rest of the ride consists of a conversation between Harvey and my father about the benefits of pickles, though dad is speaking more from a gourmand point of view. Score one for me.
We get to my parents' house – it no longer really feels like my home – and get the suitcases inside. Before I'm well and in the door, someone jumps on me for a hug.
"Evan! Why do you always stay away so long?"
"Hey. Good to see you too," I chuckle, hugging Sandra back. "You'll get your gifts in a minute, just take it down a notch."
"You're incredible," she scolds, but she lets me go. I make a show of twisting my neck until it cracks – she hates that.
"Well, Sandra, this is Harvey. Harvey, Sandra."
"Hey, great to finally meet you. You're a doctor, right?"
"Aaand let me cut that off right there," I quickly step in. "Dan around anywhere?"
"Up in his room playing something noisy."
Daniel is a big fan of video games, and he tends to make sure the whole house knows it.
Dad goes up to the staircase and yells upstairs:
"Danny Boy! Come say hi to your future brother-in-law!"
"Dad!" I protest. Even my hair is cringing – I don't dare look at Harvey now. However, one should never underestimate Daniel's ability to make things worse. Dan is just a little bit less chubby than I was before I left and has always got away with everything. The stairs creak as he comes down.
"Hey," he says simply. "You don't look very gay. So which one's the girl?" He looks pointedly at me. I could sink into the ground.
"Nobody, Daniel. That's the whole point."
"Ohhhh," Dan says, and grins widely. "So you both are."
"Come on, Daniel. Did we raise you like this?" mom responds agitatedly. Everyone here is trying to make a good impression, after all.
"Ah, Dan's just jealous of Evan's godly physique," dad jokes. This does not make things any better.
"Save me," I mouth at Sandra. In the meantime, Dan has thought out a response to dad's jab, because that's what happens when you jab at people.
"Wait 'till Harvey sees pictures of his fat face before."
I want to tell him that Harvey has, in fact, seen me in all my chub glory, but Sandra has now figured out a response to that.
"Better than your fat ass in my panties. I told you I have proof."
"Okay." I have to do something before I die of shame. I can't immediately think of something else to say. "Okay, everybody please just... just shut up." Then I notice my suitcase again. "We – Harvey and I – are going to put our suitcases away. In my room. Nobody is invited."
"My ear on the wall, bro. You're warned," Dan threatens. I don't respond, just grab my case and start moving, trusting that Harvey will come with me. I'm sure he'll welcome being out of sight.
I have to let him move his own suitcase until I'm done with mine because Dan is coming right behind him and I'm not trying to spark any more bigoted comments. Finally I get the door closed behind us. I lean my back against it and kind of slide down onto my ass. Then I look up, trying to be cheerful.
"Hi. I'm dying. Just in case it wasn't obvious," I say with a wide smile. Harvey doesn't seem to know how to respond. I get up and go over to him, but I don't really know if a touch or a hug would be welcome in this situation. "Are you... a bit okay? I'm sorry about Dan, I told you he was gonna be a jerk..."
"It's okay," he interrupts. "I can deal with that."
"Really? You're sure?" I can't help but remember his worry about the reactions in Pelican Town.
"Your brother is not a part of my life and you obviously don't want him in yours. Your parents seem nice, and they're the ones I was worried about."
"Yeah, they are. I was kinda worried... you seem uncomfortable all the time."
"I'm just bad at small talk, I believe you should've noticed that when we first met. I'm more at ease observing. Once I have an idea of who they are, what they're like, and which topics I should avoid, I'll talk more easily. But you don't need to stop them trying."
"I'm not."
"Why didn't you let Sandra talk to me?"
"Oh, that. She likes to ask weird medical questions. I thought I'd spare you the rare cancers on day one."
"Is she a med student?"
"No, she did business management. She owns a clothes shop. It's just personal interest."
"She's a fashion girl?" Now Harvey is surprised. Sandra does not look that part – and for good reason.
"Don't let her hear you say that, she might just slap you. She is a businesswoman. She just happens to sell clothes because apparently the market wanted them, or something like that. She's the one who handles my truffle oil, too, and she's doing market research to see what else she could do with my products. She's in love with that farm, she says it's given her so many ideas. I've heard her drop the word 'bakery', but I don't know how far she's going to go with that one."
"And what does Daniel do?"
"Somehow, according to him, he's making money with videos of himself playing video games on the internet. Don't ask me, I have no clue."
"And he's always been like this?"
"Started when he was 12. My parents actually switched him to a different school because they figured it was influence from his friends there, but it turned out to be the internet."
"So why don't they take away his computer?"
"Because... if a parent tries to prohibit someone like that from doing something that... they base their identity on... basically, it's asking for rebellion. If he leaves, he won't have anything to anchor him to reality and the rules of society anymore. We need to stick with him so that he'll have someone to turn to when he sees the light. Mom believes it'll happen when he meets a girl that sets off his serotonin factory."
"I'm afraid that sounds unrealistically naïve to me, but I do admire their loyalty."
I shrug.
"What can you do? I've wanted to hit him so many times, but then he'll just go play the victim and his slimy little friends will hail him as a martyr to their cause."
"This is not a kind of behavior that can be trusted to go away when it's ignored. For one, lashing out like that can be a symptom of depression."
"Dan is not depressed," I scoff.
"You are not a medical professional. Let an expert make that call."
"Gonna have to get him into that office first."
"That's a problem only because you waited so long. If this started when he was 12, it should have been addressed sooner."
"He was a teenager. Being difficult and hateful is a teenager's default setting."
"Were you?"
"Well, no, but I was being beaten up by bullies. That does help with the old perspective. Anyway... it's not up to me to decide. We'll have to bring it up with my parents."
I zip my suitcase open and start pulling out gifts while Harvey looks on.
"Did you actually bring any clothes for yourself?"
I lift up the corner of a t-shirt for him to see.
"One t-shirt and one pair of jeans. It's only a week, it can go in the laundry if necessary, I still have some of my old clothes here, and... well, last year my mom kind of forced me to let her buy me new ones. I'm prepared for anything now."
I pile my gifts into my arms – normally I keep my suitcase downstairs until they're all handed out, but this time I was just in a hurry to get up here. Harvey grabs a couple of jars from the top and we head downstairs.
Noise from Dan's room makes it obvious that he's back in there. All the better. We find Sandra in the living room, sitting on the couch with her laptop. She looks up when we come in, so I serve her first.
"Here. Three seasons' worth of jam..." I stall out three different jars on the coffee table, "and this is for your tea." I add a jar of honey behind the jam.
"Oh, Yoba, Evan, you're the best." She hugs me tight and I effortlessly lift her up and twirl her around the room. Then she picks up two of the jars and takes them into the kitchen. I set down the rest of what I have with me.
"Mom. Here, look at this," I hear Sandra say.
"There's more where that came from back here," I call out meaningfully.
Both my parents come over to see what I brought.
I hand my dad two large jars of pickled herring.
"This one's spicy," I comment, pointing at a thin strip of red pepper between the fish.
My mom gets a little bag of gemstones.
"I can't cut these or make jewelry out of them, but I did have them appraised. This is some emeralds, some rubies, some jade... there's one diamond in there too. Sell them, or have them made into jewelry, whatever you like. I also have this..." I tap a two-pound bag of flour on the table, "but the real gift is what I'll be making with it, so patience there. And finally..." I hand my dad a bottle of wine. "Starfruit wine. Very rare, pretty sweet, for the whole family to enjoy."
More hugs are exchanged.
"You're growing starfruit?" Sandra asks excitedly. "Where do you get it? That stuff is hard as all get out to find."
"I have my sources." I tap the side of my nose.
"Oh, come on, there's no need to be all secretive about it."
"That depends on what you're planning to do. I just get the seeds, but if you start buying in bulk, my prices are going to double. Just tell me how many you want, and I'll get you the fruits. And just so you'd know, I have rhubarb on my field right now."
Sandra's eyes go wide. She 's crazy about rhubarb.
"And you couldn't bring some of that?"
"It'll be ripe in two weeks. You were already complaining about it taking so long for me to come over."
"Hmm, maybe I'll come visit you."
"You're very welcome."
"And sleep on an air mattress on the ground," dad chuckles.
"Or in my bed with me. I don't exactly have an extra room available, but it is a queen."
"You have a queen?" Sandra's jealousy is tangible.
"Oh, come on, as if you couldn't get one if you wanted to. I paid for that."
"A princess requires a queen to sleep in, after all," my dad jokes.
I pretend-flip long hair I don't have, grab my mom's purse from the couch and hang it in the crook of my arm, and get out all my sass.
"Don't you know it, babe."
"Careful with that," my mom warns, and quickly pulls the purse out of my hands, but everyone's laughing.
I look around and spot Harvey standing off to the side. I go over.
"You okay?"
"Don't worry about me, I just didn't want to interfere."
"You don't."
He doesn't seem nervous right now, at least. Just observing, as he said before.
"Yeah, Harvey, you're a part of the family," Sandra adds.
"You know, San, it might not actually be clever to start throwing phrases like that around with people you've only known for a couple of years?" I suggest lightly. "I mean, we're not exactly getting married yet."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."
"That's alright, I'm not running just yet," Harvey says soothingly, a small smile on his lips. I wasn't really worried, but still. You get those 'overly attached girlfriend' kind of stories.
"Well, he's certainly welcome," my mom speaks up.
"Thank you."
"So, Evan, did you have any plans for what you're going to do while you're here? Go somewhere, see some things?" Dad asks.
"I'm not sure there's anything to see around here that Harvey hasn't seen, to be honest. He studied here for some eight years, from what I've gathered," I answer, questioning Harvey with my eyes.
"I was a... very dedicated student with no funds. I hardly ever left my dorm."
"A world of possibilities, then. Anything you're interested in seeing?" Dad follows up.
"I, um... never really looked into it. Why suffer the temptation, you know." Harvey looks a bit insecure now.
"Because you might have money later, no?"
I trust Harvey to be capable of conversing with people, I honestly do. But I don't think he needs my parents' pity over still not having a lot of money – nor, generally, the will to leave his clinic – if he's going to be forced to tell them.
"Well, there's bunches of things to see and do. There's museums – and not just stuffy painting ones, or medieval clothes and stuff, there's the perfume museum, the chocolate museum... technological museum... communications museum... There's probably some kind of museum about airplanes somewhere around here."
"Yeah, the air and space museum," my dad supplies.
"There's the wax museum, though I've never really seen the point of that..."
"You're just a boring fart who doesn't care about making pictures," Sandra laughs. I have to give her that one and chuckle along.
"There's the botanical garden, too, and the palace gardens with all the fountains, but those are prettier at night with the lights on... There's a few churches, if you're into architecture..."
"Or the beer factory, if you're into beer. They give guided tours with sampling."
"He's more of a wine man, really," I grin.
"It all sounds very interesting. I really wouldn't know what to choose."
Then I get another idea. With another, wider grin, I whisper a question into my father's ear. His answering grin says it all.
"Be honest now. Is there anything that draws your attention more than the rest? Anything you've particularly remembered?" I ask Harvey while we're walking around the neighborhood. I was just a little eager myself to get away from the hubbub.
"I thought you had an idea? One I'm not allowed to know?"
"I do, but we have a week. Plenty of time. I was kind of expecting you to jump at the air and space museum."
"It would be fun to see, but not really anything I don't know yet, probably. I don't know how perfumes or chocolate are made, so I'd sooner lean toward those."
"I went to the perfume museum once. Like ten years ago. I barely remember what was inside," I chuckle.
We turn a corner and Harvey spots a familiar sight.
"The university," he comments.
"Yeah, I told you it was just two blocks. It's weird to think we attended at the same time. We could've run into each other at any time."
"I don't think so. My faculty's outside of the city center. You attended right here?"
"Humanities is further down the street. But yeah, I didn't have far to walk."
"Convenient."
"Didn't the Medicine faculty have dorms right on campus?"
"It's a big campus."
As we pass by a side street, I remember something else.
"Hey, let's go in here."
About halfway down the block, there's a gate leading into a walled-off patio full of art nouveau metal tables and chairs. Two twenty-something girls are sitting at one of the tables, talking animatedly, and for the rest the place is empty. I push through the gate.
"Can you just go in there?"
"It's a university cafetaria. I worked here for a while. Come on."
When Harvey follows me through the gate, I move immediately to the right. There's a bushy holly in the corner with a little sliver of pathway behind it, and because of the shape of the building and its angle to the street, it's a little tucked back and out of sight.
"So... Is there something... here?"
"You and me."
I move closer to him, take both his hands in mine.
"When I worked here, we would call this the makeout corner. Let's say it's... popular among the students."
Harvey chuckles.
"I can see why."
"Harvey, I'd like to ask you a question."
"What is it?" He looks a bit guarded now – my own fault for starting in such a way, I guess.
"I have the impression you're... not much of a fan of PDA."
"Sorry, I don't know what that means."
"Public displays of affection."
"Oh. I'm... sorry, I don't really... think..."
"No, I don't... I'm not... I guess I phrased that wrong. Don't be sorry, that's not what I'm after. It's... When we're together, I want to... kiss you, hug you... hold hands, all that... gooey stuff... but I don't dare, because I don't want to make you uncomfortable. So in order to prevent a misunderstanding here... would you be against that?"
For a second or so, he averts his eyes, searching for an answer perhaps. He stares at the wall behind me and I can see something dawn in his expression, as if he's never seen a wall before.
Then he quickly pulls his right hand out of mine, sets his forearm across my chest and pushes me backward, up against the bricks. I yelp in surprise, but then he kisses me heatedly and I just melt into him. He presses his whole body up against mine and I hang onto him, breathing fast.
"Guys!" a male voice shouts from somewhere around the corner. I am somewhat bewildered and quickly look up, but Harvey jumps, pulls away from me and turns around, tense like a cornered animal.
"We can tolerate a little dry-humping around here," the voice goes on, and a man of about my age comes around the corner, "but if this goes on I'm going to call in the Dean, this is getting out... of..." Stunning light blue eyes with dark rings around the iris really focus on the scene. I'm starting to get the impression that he expected someone else. Also, I know those eyes.
Comforted, I look at Harvey, who still looks ready to run.
"Maxwell!" I greet cordially. When Harvey sees I know him, he'll hopefully calm down.
"Gideon?" the man asks after a few seconds. He's peering at me like he can hardly see, but an incredulous smile starts to appear around the corners of his mouth.
"The very same. What are you still doing here?" I answer, and clap the man on the shoulder.
"I own this place," he laughs. "Assistant manager."
"What the...? How? You were a translator."
"Freelance life didn't agree with me. I took a course in business management, got lucky that Gertie was looking for someone."
"Man, that sounds awesome."
"Won't you introduce me to your beau here? I don't think I've seen him."
"He's from Medicine. Harvey, come on. This is Trent." As Harvey comes closer, I offer my hand and he takes it. Accomplishment runs warm through my stomach. "Trent, Harvey. Hands off, Blue Eyes," I warn Trent. In answer, he lifts a hand, showing off a glittering iridium ring on his ring finger. I scoff, amazed, and he nods with a face that says "I know, mate. I know."
"Wow, congrats. When did that happen?"
"Just last year. Remember William?"
"Noooo. You got back together?"
"It was a bit of a rollercoaster for a while, but going steady for four years now. And where've you been, anyway? I don't hear from you for years on end, now all of a sudden you show up here groping a med student?"
I clear my throat at the wording.
"Not a student, Maxwell, I'm not some kind of perv. I moved out of the city, actually."
"Some kind of online job you can do from home?"
I can't help but laugh in anticipation. He's not going to believe his ears.
"I took over my grandfather's farm."
Trent just looks at me. Then he bursts out laughing.
"You almost had me there, Gideon. You, a farmer. Your crochet scarves, sure, but you weren't expecting me to actually fall for that one, were you?"
I take off my jacket.
"So you would believe I actually convinced myself to start going to the gym?"
It's not that cold when the sun is shining, so I'm only wearing a t-shirt under the jacket. I see Trent's gaze linger on my arms. I look very different now – it's why he could barely recognize me at first.
"No way. You live on a farm? And you grow, like, vegetables and stuff?"
"And fruits. And cows, chickens, sheep... The whole shebang."
"Yoba. How did you even... you could barely keep that rosemary plant in my dorm alive."
"That plant had a parasite, and if John hadn't overwatered it all the time it would've been fine. I ended up in a cubicle farm at Joja. One day I just kind of snapped... And then remembered this envelope I got from my grandpa before he died, that I was only allowed to open when basically that very thing happened. And then suddenly I had a farm and nothing to lose."
"So you're... visiting Harvey?"
"Visiting my parents. We both live in that town. Pelican Town, it's called. We met there. So who did you think you were talking to, anyway? Are they that scandalous?"
Trent hides his face behind his hand, looking at me through his fingers.
"They are shameless. About once a week, at any time of day, they'll just show up and start having actual sex, and they'll make sure everybody knows it. It's like they get a kick out of being chased off. I mean, we were never like that, were we?"
"Oh, I don't know, Maxwell. The kind of stuff you used to get up to..."
"Yeah, but quiet, though. I wasn't trying to get caught. Hey... Why don't we sit down? Inside. More comfortable. I'll get you a cold one, my treat."
"I dunno. Being locked in a conversation between two other people talking about a bunch of people you've never met and places you've never been is no fun." I nod sideways at Harvey.
"If this is a friend you haven't seen in four years, how could I possibly object? Besides, I must admit I'm curious. About the nicknames, for example. Gideon?"
"Well, if you want to hear it... Have you still got that elderflower ale?" I ask Trent.
"Sure do. Come on in, our old spot's free, too."
So we all sit down with beer and Trent starts explaining.
"So we're both studying different but related things at the same campus, right?" Trent starts as soon as we all have our beers. "And we have the same library. So one day we each get a paper assigned – completely different papers, mind – and we both decide to use the same book for the paper. I translated a piece of it, and you had some kind of socioeconomic something...?"
"The book is a social commentary on the necessity of art and beauty. My assignment was basically to explain my position on that very question, and compare with other points of view," I explain. "hypothesizing about potential causes for the differences and such. So yeah, my analysis mostly focused on socioeconomic and cultural differences between authors."
"So that's an old book, hard to find, and the library only had one copy of it. Evan got to that copy first," Trent goes on.
"So one day I was in the library working on that paper when the fire alarm went off," I take over. "And when we could finally go back in, the book was gone. And those books are fitted with magnetic tags that also cause an alarm to go off when they're taken out of the library, so it couldn't be outside... So I kinda went around creeping on people, trying to catch the front pages of the books they had until I found Trent with it. Bugger saw me coming, too."
"So next this guy here is basically pulling my sleeve, looking shy and nervous like a little kid, telling me very politely that he needed that book, that he had a deadline in a week, and could I please give it back when I was done with it because he was going to get in trouble if he didn't get the thing scanned back in with his own library card," Trent guffaws.
"Eh, don't blame me. You looked kinda mean," I grin. "He was emo back then."
"Emo?" Harvey frowns.
"Think Sebastian. But with a spiked collar."
"Right."
"But anyway, what happened was that Trent turned out to be really friendly –"
"More like felt guilty seeing those kicked puppy eyes," Trent interrupts.
"Or that," I admit, "and his first question was what I needed it for. So I explained, and we ended up carrying on that conversation in here later, discussing opinions and points of view... and when Trent got drunk enough, he started telling me that I was exactly like this character in the book, named Gideon."
"He's this kid who spends all his time with his head in the clouds. Doesn't dare talk to people much, likes to look at flowers, that sort of thing," Trent explains.
"And I responded by identifying him with another character, Maxwell, who's this prickly pear party boy and also a closet gay. I was not talking about the gay part... But Trent basically reacted in exactly the same way Maxwell would have. Got all loud and defensive and left, then refused to talk to me for days – and I still needed that book – and I thought he was angry because I'd called out the similarities in personalities. It was when I tried to talk to him about it and he got all insulted about me thinking he was gay that I basically went "What the hell? I'm gay, and also that wasn't what I was talking about." He loosened up after that, kinda took me under his wing."
"Kid spent his whole life living in this city and didn't know where the good pubs were at," Trent laughs.
"Also you came out of the closet in the end," I add.
"Partly thanks to you being so candid about it."
"Pants on fire. You just fell head over heels for dear William. He tried to get me to be his wingman and I just flat-out refused."
"Because you had a crush on him yourself."
"Did not."
"Come on. Will is a hot potato."
"All the more reason for couch potato old me to stay far away from him and his pretty-boy scorn."
"He doesn't do that."
"You didn't dare go and talk to him yourself, though."
"I was in love!"
"Yeah, you were. You started speaking in tongues when he walked past."
"Har har. So how did the two of you get together?" Trent shoots back, triumphant because he found a way to turn the conversation back onto me. I doubtfully look at Harvey, who does not seem happy with this turn of events.
"Well. He's the town doctor. I got myself beaten up. Because I'm gay. Saddled myself with a nice big concussion, had to explain what the hell I did, subsequently spent four days in the clinic... well. You know sleepovers."
"Boy, do I. And a doctor, too."
By the time we leave, twilight is falling, and I take the opportunity to show Harvey another pretty thing nearby – a fountain with a lot of lights both in and around it, making the water glitter. While we stand there looking at it, Harvey speaks up.
"You did a lot of misrepresenting in there with your friend Trent."
"By now he's really more of an old acquaintance, you know. There's a reason we hadn't talked for four years. After university we'd go out for drinks every now and then, but that stopped before I left for Pelican Town. We just don't have all that much in common."
"Still. You made it sound like we immediately got down to it during your stay in the clinic."
I sigh.
"I thought about asking you to tell the story, but you seemed uncomfortable with the topic, which I understand. So I got rid of the question in the most truthful way possible that was also the fastest way possible."
"Is this the man you said you exchanged blow jobs with?"
"Oh." That is one very unexpected angle. "No, no, no, that was another guy. I mean, he did try, but I was not up for that."
"Why not?"
"You might have caught a comment of mine in there about the kind of stuff he used to get up to."
"Yes?"
"This guy must have caught about half of all venereal diseases known to man."
"Oh. And he didn't think to use a condom?"
"Said he didn't like them. I mean, I had that conversation with him, I was like "and you do like having to take heavy antibiotics three times a day?" but I couldn't get through to him."
"Three times a day?" Harvey seems to consider this a lot.
"Yeah. At one point he said he had something weird going on and I had to convince him to go see a doctor, because he was sure it would go away on its own. When he finally got back he told me it was nothing, but I caught him taking pills later. Looked up the name on the pill bottle, I don't remember what it was called now but it was some kind of big-boy antibiotics."
"Did he tell you what he had?"
"He said it was something like a big reverse wart or something. Like, instead of a growth coming out, like a wart, the skin seemed to... melt inward?"
"Syphilis."
"Yeah, well. As I said. I wasn't gonna touch him with a ten foot pole."
"Other people are going to ask that question, though. Hasn't your family?"
"I didn't even tell them about the concussion. Mom would flip."
"You said you told them about the balloon."
"And not much else." I shrug. "There aren't any embarrassing stories to tell. As far as they're concerned, it just kind of grew."
"So you didn't tell them the truth about how we got together... because your mom would be worried if you told her you got hit?"
I sit down on the edge of the fountain, searching for a way to explain this that would guarantee him not thinking badly of me. I can't really think of one.
"I don't want to go around telling people things that you might not like them to know. But I don't know what you would mind and what you wouldn't. I don't know if you would mind my parents knowing about what yours were like. I mean, I'm not losing face telling them every detail of this story, but I'm not the only one involved."
"You think telling them would make them think badly of me?"
"Pity. They would pity you. Besides, I don't exactly want to come across as bragging about how well I did convincing you to get a taste of life, or anything like that. That's what it would sound like. I mean, it's not like I know what happened in your head between the balloon and the last time we talked before that, it might not even have been me at all."
"Oh, it was absolutely you, don't you question that. But you don't have to hide that. Credit should be given where credit is due."
I recognized my own words.
"So how would you tell that story? Would you tell just anyone every detail?"
"I wouldn't mind you letting your old friend Trent think that it just grew. I would prefer you avoid making it sound like we had a wild slumber party while you were severely ill. Your parents seem nice and understanding enough that I wouldn't mind them knowing the details. After all, it's their good work that paid off for me."
He bends down and kisses me tenderly.
"I would like to ask you to stop protecting me. If I don't retort, that doesn't mean I'm hurt. If I don't defend myself, that doesn't mean I'm incapable. Often I just don't consider it worth the effort."
"I guess I just keep on thinking back to the first few times I talked to you. You always seemed so nervous and worried, like the slightest hint that someone thought negatively of you would be enough to make you cry. A dog with its tail constantly between its legs. After we had sex for the first time, too, you said you didn't dare look at me."
Harvey sits down next to me.
"Your defense mechanisms are all about appearing confident and strong. I imagine that is because the thing you were defending yourself from was bullies who picked on the weak. In my own experience, the most useful defense mechanism was to appear meek and compliant. I am not good at talking to people mainly because many of my experiences trying have resulted in people taking offense when I didn't understand why. When I left, I tried to show confidence a few times and was always punished for it, but people tend to react favorably if I act like I'm scared of them. What happened after your first time was different. I really did hate myself for hurting you, and I really am terrified of losing you. I'm sure I would survive, but..." He sighs heavily. "I don't think I could open up to someone else again after."
I put my arm around him.
"You won't have to. I am fully committed to making this work."
"I know. You're the one who did the fighting."
"And I'll stop worrying about you. I know how confident and capable you are when we're alone. If the worrywort act is really just a façade, I will just stop believing it. But then if you really do get hurt, I'm going to need you to let me know."
"I will."
I kiss him, just as sweetly as he did before.
"Shall we go inside? It's getting cold out here."
"Yes, please."
It's still dark behind the shutters when I wake up. I lie in bed dozing for a while, floating slowly closer to consciousness, before I realize something's missing. It's so quiet.
It dawns on me that there's no birdsong or even owls hooting, no animal noises at all. I frown over this conundrum for a minute before I realize I'm not on the farm. I slowly remember coming to the city.
The next thing I realize is that Harvey is in bed with me. If I listen hard, I can hear him breathing.
So there's this thing that I've wanted to try for years. I scoot up to him, trying to be quiet about it so he won't wake up too soon. He's sleeping in pajamas, lying on his side, his back turned toward me. I start slowly kissing his neck and shoulder, running my hand up and down his back, chest, and the arm I can reach. It doesn't take long for him to start responding.
"Evan?" he croaks.
"Yeah."
"What time is it?"
"Dunno. Early."
"Are you... feeling unwell?"
"No," I chuckle. "I am feeling very well." I worm my hand under his t-shirt.
He doesn't respond immediately. He takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly while I massage his chest.
"And you don't think it's a little early to start waking up other people?"
"Don't worry, I'll let you sleep more in ten minutes."
"I can't fall back asleep after being completely awake in the morning, Evan."
"I'm sure you will."
"Evan, what are you planning?"
"Shh. Relax."
I pull on his shoulder and he allows me to roll him onto his back. I interpret this as a good sign and start planting open-mouthed kisses in his neck, moving down toward his collarbone.
His hands come up to cup my face and guide me up towards his. I figure he wants to kiss me, but he stops me before I can get that close.
"I understand what you're going for... but I'm afraid I'm not in a mood for having sex right now."
With my own hand, I gingerly search for his face in the darkness, until I can confidently rub a thumb back and forth over his cheek.
"I just wanted to blow you."
I'm not entirely comfortable getting into anything that would require anyone to get a shower later. For one, the only shower is downstairs, and I'm kind of worried about staining if I'm going to have to put on clothes to get there.
"Why now?" He asks.
I shrug, knowing he can feel it.
"Sounds like an awesome way to wake up."
This gets half a chuckle out of him.
"Well, I can't say you don't have a point."
I give him a simple kiss on the lips, because morning breath.
"May I?"
"If you insist."
I go right back to his collarbone, smiling to myself. In the meantime I work his t-shirt up to get it out of the way. I spend some time on his nipples before letting one hand wander slowly down, circle his navel a few times in ever larger circles until I meet the waistband of his pyjama pants. I slip my hand under it, but stay outside of his underpants for now, stroking him slowly. I get another big sigh from him. After hearing Dan's threat – "my ear on the wall" – I'm starting to get an idea of what might have caused his stubborn silence. I'll work on that. Just not here and now.
Taking my time, I kiss a meandering path down his chest, to his stomach, and further down. I kiss and nuzzle him through his underpants before finally shimmying them down and repeating my actions without the fabric in the way. When I start using my tongue, I feel a hand on my head. I go on teasing for a little longer and then take him in, back and forth, inch by inch, trying to keep my gag reflex under control for as long as I can.
When I do start gagging, Harvey unexpectedly turns the lamp on the night table on. I figure he's going to tell me that I don't have to do this, like he has several times before. I keep on telling him it's no problem – you don't learn without practice. I look up.
"Keep your eyes open and try to keep breathing through your nose," he advises.
I stare at him for a couple of seconds.
"Okay. That's... unexpected."
"I've told you often enough that you don't need to do this. If you're going to insist, I might as well help make it a bit easier."
"You learned that in med school?"
"Ever heard of intubation?"
I chuckle. Of course shoving a tube into a person's stomach or airways is going to cause the same gagging problems.
"So the stuff you learn to be a doctor turns out to be super useful for sex as well."
"You sound surprised. I thought that was the stereotype."
"Lots of stereotypes are wrong," I shrug, and get back to my work.
He goes on stroking my head with his hand while I'm at it. When he takes that hand off to ball it in the sheets, I know he's close, and with just a little more encouragement, I start noticing he's growing.
I dutifully swallow everything as best I can – I never manage to keep everything inside, so I lick him clean to prevent him a trip to the bathroom after all.
I roll over toward my nightstand and take a few sips from the bottle of water I have sitting on that before I crawl up to Harvey, kiss him and snuggle up to him. He pulls his pants back up and turns the light out.
"Thank you," he whispers.
"I've kinda been wanting to try that for years," I admit. A yawn forces itself on my airways. All of a sudden my eyes feel itchy.
"Just go back to sleep."
I kind of hope he'll still be able to sleep – he seemed certain that he wouldn't be able to when I woke him up. I'll have to see if I'm going to end up owing him an apology.
